Shoot the wall
by JuweWright
Summary: John wakes up in the middle of the night because someone is practicing his shooting skills in the flat... One shot, fluff, cute, nothing much but I felt like it... :-)


**Shoot the wall…**

_A./N. One Shot. Sweet, fluffy. Nothing much but I felt like it. Hope you like it._

BANG

Oh no not again.

BANG

John sighed and turned his head on his pillow to take a look at his alarm clock. 4:30 am… what the hell was that man doing?

BANG

Well he knew what he was doing, didn't he. Mrs Hudson would be furious. John got up. He still felt sleepy.

BANG

John walked into the living room with both hands above his head.

BANG

He stared at the picture in front of him. This was seriously disturbing on a whole new level. And John knew a lot of levels of disturbing since he had moved in with Sherlock. There was head-in-the-fridge-disturbing and blood-on-the-floor-disturbing and Irene-Adler-in-the-bed-disturbing (which was very disturbing indeed) but nothing could beat Mrs-Hudson-wielding-a-gun-disturbing.

The landlady was sitting next to Sherlock on the sofa and aimed for the Smiley on the wall again. She squinted to get a better aim and looked very enthusiastic. Sherlock sat next to her, correcting the position of her elbow a bit. John noticed his friend looked quite at ease. Not the nervous wreck he sometimes became, not the high functioning machine he became when he had a difficult case to solve. The only time when John had seen his flat mate look as relaxed as he did right now was when Sherlock played the violin. A crooked little smile on his face betrayed the fun he had at Mrs Hudson's display.

BANG

"Right into the left eye, Mrs Hudson. You're getting better and better. With a bit of training you'll be a professional soon. Care for a second career as an assassin?"

Finally he noticed John in the doorway and smiled.

"Ah, care to join the party? We should have a competition between the three of us. Me and John will shoot with our left hands and you will do as best you can without my help that should make us equals."

Mrs Hudson nodded as John walked over who still believed himself to be dreaming. This was not what happened in 221B at night. At least this was not what usually happened.

"Oh come on, John, sit down."

Sherlock got hold of his shirt and pulled him down onto the sofa where he ended up a bit squeezes in between his friend and the armrest. Sherlock grinned and reloaded the pistol.

"You first", he said and handed John the weapon. "Left handed."

John had never been good at shooting with the wrong hand. His bullet missed the smiley completely and hit the wall about a foot above it.

"Oh come on that was amazingly bad", said Sherlock and grabbed the gun. "Let's see what I can…"

BANG

"Oh damned. That was even worse than yours John."

Mrs Hudson took the pistol with a smile. Her bullet found its way into the smiley's mouth but not into its eye.

"Round two…", announced Sherlock.

Fifteen minutes later the wall had had its share for the night and Sherlock had won the game (right into the eye) with Mrs Hudson a good second (an inch left from it) and John coming last (his bullet had only hit the nose of the bloody thing).

Sherlock fell back into his seat. His head rested against John's shoulder.

"We should do that more often."

Mrs Hudson smiled.

"I don't mind the shooting", she said and got up. "I just think that according to statics there's only so many bullets a wall can take before it gives up."

"That would be an interesting field of study", mumbled Sherlock sleepily.

"Shall I get the two of you some hot chocolate?", she asked. "It's not really the time for tea, is it? But chocolate might be nice. I got some from Morrison's yesterday."

John nodded. He felt that hot chocolate was an excellent idea right now.

"That would be lovely. Thank you."

She vanished and for a while the two men sat in silence. Sherlock had not moved an inch although there was plenty of space on the sofa now that the landlady had left.

"So how come you taught Mrs Hudson how to shoot?", John asked, his voice not much more than a whisper.

"I was bored. I shot the wall. She came in… she asked", came the short reply.

Again, silence. Finally Mrs Hudson came back with two steaming cups of chocolate.

"Oh", she whispered and smiled. "This is sweet."

And gone she was again. It took John a couple of seconds to realize what she was referring to. The great detective had fallen asleep and when John tried to get up and leave, he was grabbed with quite a ferocious strength and pulled down into the pillows again. At least he could free his arms and drink some of the chocolate which was as hot and steamy and chocolaty as hot chocolate had to be. With a sigh he leaned rested his head on the black curls and put his right arm around his friend's shoulders to be a bit more comfortable.

Five minutes later he was sleeping as soundly as he had been before the shots had woken him. Mrs Hudson came in, picked the tray up again and with a last glance over her shoulder switched off the light in the study.


End file.
